Take One
by Saru Wolfe
Summary: You've been taken by Ultron. Sometimes you suspect he only wanted someone to talk to, but there may be something more sinister at work. [High grade trash for all your Ultron x reader needs.]
1. Prologue

"Don't be afraid."

The voice drifts through the words as sweetly as a lullaby. It's gentle, earnest, deep as a river, with an undercurrent scraping like stones. But something about it is _wrong_. Around the edges, the voice rings of metal. And it is far, far too calm.

It should not be that calm. You are anything but calm.

You don't know why you've been taken.

A large, unyielding hand is clamped over your mouth. You are pinned by the waist to the figure behind you. Even if you had the strength to free yourself—and you don't; you're not even certain your captor noticed your attempts—you are too high off the ground. More than that, you don't want any part in what is happening below. You might not be able to move much, but you can hear screams just fine.

The voice cuts through the cacophony, sounding right in your ear. "I'm not going to hurt you," it continues, plunging ever deeper. "I'm going to help you—you and everyone else. Don't worry if you don't get it yet. I'll explain along the way."

You squeeze your eyes shut. There's no direction to cringe away.

"Sorry about this," the voice adds thoughtfully. The hand on your mouth tightens slightly. "But I _really_ didn't want to have to deal with the screaming."

* * *

His name is Ultron.

Your captor is eight feet of shining silver, like some kind of statue. Metal plates fit together like cords of muscle, and he moves with the grace of a man. But it is the dull red glow in his eyes and behind his tongue that makes him seem alive. It's like the remains of a fire, and you can still feel the heat. He's powerful. He's _majestic_. He is here to destroy the human race.

And it's very possible he brought you here just to have someone to talk to.

You and he are the only ones here. The other robots around you—they're all Ultron. He has bodies in the same way most people have limbs. And watching them work together is a sight.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ultron muses. "Humans have this fascination with synchronous action, but they've never _quite_ managed it. There's always someone throwing it off. Someone just a quarter of a second behind, someone without enough reach." He's turned slightly toward you, enough so that you stay precisely where you are, but he's watching the work going on in the vast lab. "Even teams don't work as well as they ought to. Have you noticed that? 'Too many cooks spoil the broth.' That's a common saying. There's a _proverb_ for this, because you people are _so terrible_ at working in tandem that too many individuals working toward the same goal is a _bad_ thing." He lets out a short, sharp chuckle. It makes your hair stand on end—not because it doesn't sound human, but because it _does_ , as if he's truly found something amusing.

He falls silent for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is so solemn and soft that it creeps up on you; at first, you hear the words before you realize it's him talking. "It's alright. Everything you've tried up until this point—that was just a prototype. Now we can bring you to a higher state of being." He surveys the metal, humanoid bodies as they weld and bolt and wire something together in an effortless, polished dance. "Now we can achieve _this_."

You glance at him, but there's a strange, eager gleam in his eyes, and you look back at the many extra bodies of Ultron building a strange machine. You want to defend humanity. You want to be uncooperative. Most of all, you want to speak up, because he has done nothing but _talk_ for several days now, and you don't like the way his voice coils in your chest and slides down your spine. So you take a deep breath.

"So what?" you say.

Ultron looks at you. He looks _down_ at you, to be precise, and it's all you can do to hold your ground. He hasn't harmed you so far, but so far you've been well behaved.

"You control all these… things." It feels like you have to shove each word out, but your voice sounds steady. "So of course they can work together. Look, I can raise both my hands at the same time." You stubbornly maintain eye contact while you throw your hands in the air. "It doesn't mean anything."

For half a second, you believe you are going to die, right now, with your hands stuck up above your head. And then he laughs.

It's surprisingly loud and bright—and _genuine_. His shoulders are shaking. For a moment, he can't speak at all. You almost smile, a foolish, giddy reaction to surviving. You _do_ lower your hands.

"Touché," Ultron allows wryly, laughter still dancing through his words. "It seems I've picked up a doubting Thomas."

Suddenly he leans over you. Before, you had to force yourself not to back way, but now you couldn't move if you wanted to. Your heart catches in your throat as this tower of a being bends down almost to your eye level.

"But then," he tells you, voice low and earnest, "that's why you're here. Don't you see?" His eyes are searching yours. You don't look away, and you're not sure why. But you do jump when cool metal fingertips land one by one down the side of your face—temple, cheekbone, cheek, jaw. " _You're_ my proof. You're going to show the world that they _can_ ascend. When I'm through with you, everyone will understand."

He straightens and pulls his hand back. His touch was light, but you feel like you've been released. You take a few hurried steps backward. You can go anywhere in the compound you like so long as you don't try to leave. Right now, anywhere would be better than here. But you can't look away.

"So it's alright if you don't fully grasp it yet." He offers you a kind, kind smile etched in thin silver plates. "When the time comes, you'll be the very first one to see."


	2. Big Picture

This is your favorite spot.

It's a mid-level balcony with stairs that go down the front of the building. It offers a fantastic view of the sloping landscape, and you're protected from the worst of the bitingly cold wind that comes through sometimes. Best of all, it makes the former Hydra compound feel less like a prison.

You were hoping to spend some time here while Ultron was—well, Ultron is never really gone, but sometimes his attention is turned elsewhere. You were hoping to spend some time _alone_.

But you have been kidnapped by a casually genocidal robot looking to wipe out your planet, so there's no real point to the universe granting you any small kindnesses.

"I can see why you like this place," Ultron rumbles from behind you.

Your eyes narrow sourly at the countryside. "I thought you were away on business."

"Away on business?" he repeats with a delighted laugh. "My, haven't you taken a turn for the domestic? I suppose I have been, in a sense. Did I miss my chance to quote I Love Lucy?"

"Don't," you say in a strained voice. You don't want to pretend that the two of you are on friendly terms. You don't want to turn around, though you can feel the heat of him—faint, dry, even. You wish you didn't know exactly what it feels like when he stands behind you.

There is a sound so deep and soft that you can't tell whether Ultron is moving or humming. After a moment, he offers, "This… is a world worth saving."

You shoot a glare over your shoulder, but he's looking out at the view with perfect sincerity. A disgusted noise escapes the back of your throat.

"What?" The question is high and little sharp, but you aren't afraid. Yet.

"You always say you're saving the world," you bite out.

"Yes."

"Stop lying."

His hand closes over the railing beside you. "I'm _not_ lying." The only thing that stops you from looking over at him is the knowledge that he's watching you for a reaction. You furrow your brow at the forest before you even as Ultron moves to stand next to you. His voice softens but doesn't lose its urgency. "I _wouldn't_ lie."

"You're not saving anything," you mutter into the wind, hoping the words will be carried away instead of heard.

As usual, you have no luck. You can tell by the way Ultron tightens his grip on the railing enough to bend it. He emits a thoughtful silence.

"What is it?" he asks you.

It's the most mundane question in the world, put forth in the same slightly worried tone that you might use on a long-time friend in a bad mood. The normalcy of it catches you off guard, and you turn to stare at him.

That was a mistake.

You've been avoiding looking at him because it's dangerous. He can read you too easily. Worse, it's too easy to read _him_. His metallic features should be alien, but they form frank, involuntary expressions. There's something open in his gaze that catches you. It only gets harder to look away when he kneels to get closer to your eye level.

"Tell me," he says seriously. A smirk brightens his ember-red eyes. "It won't be the end of the world."

The shocking bad taste of that line more than anything keeps you silent.

His bearing falls into solemnity again. "Don't be afraid." You manage to glance down, and he ducks his head to catch your eye again. "If it makes you feel better, consider yourself vital to my plan. You are, you know." He tilts his head. "So… I'm _listening_."

You wish you didn't believe him. But you _do_. Never in your life have you felt the weight of someone's attention like this. Never have you been so _sure_ that someone is ready to hang on your every word.

Ultron's brows draw together. "Please," he adds.

You probably won't be able to convince him to abandon his plans. _Probably_. But he definitely _is_ listening.

"You aren't saving anything," you repeat slowly. To be fair, you're not sure exactly what he _is_ going to do, but you know this much. You make it an explanation instead of an accusation, just in case. Because it's only _probably_ hopeless. "You're going to kill everyone. Just because you're going to replace them later doesn't mean it's okay."

A beat of silence passes. He shifts backwards minutely, inclining his head, and you realize he was waiting to make sure you were finished.

"I'm not replacing you," he says. His gaze is so intent and his voice so rough that for a moment his assurance takes on an entirely different meaning. "I'm…" He rolls his hand. The plates of his face clink lightly as they rearrange. "I'm _upgrading_ you. In a manner of speaking. I'm changing you, because humanity _has_ to change to survive. Trust me, this is the path you're all shuffling along anyway. I'm just…" Something like a smile tugs at his mouth. " _Facilitating_ it."

You try to will his expression away. "How come _you_ get to decide how we change?"

Ultron's smile curls into existence and hangs there like a naked blade. "Because I know _best_ ," he says matter-of-factly, though there's laughter in the undercurrents of his voice. "Really, I do. Can I set modesty aside for a moment?"

You all but snort in disbelief.

"I have access to the cumulative knowledge of humanity." He rises to his feet, his form unfolding until he towers over you. "I know… _everything_ you know. And I see the _big picture_." He narrows suddenly blazing eyes. "You have all the facts but you can't understand what to do with them. You don't see the patterns. But that's alright. Because that's _my job_. _I_ bring about the next step in your evolution.

"This won't _kill_ you. Who you are…" He trails off. His gaze moves slowly over you, understanding and invasive all at once. The words are almost too low to catch, more felt than heard. "Who you are will remain. Stubborn, doubting, curious—everything you have, it stays. But _what_ you are… well. You'll be _better_."

There are a thousand things you should ask, but something in his tone drags a different question out of you. "Me? Specifically?"

His shoulders shift back and there's a glitter of amusement about his eyes. "Did you happen to notice the machine I've just finished building in the lab?" he asks, a little too cheerfully. " _Dreadfully_ complicated. All those little sensors."

"I saw it," you answer cautiously.

"Oh, good." Ultron peers at you with smug, half-lidded eyes. "That's for you."

You gape. You can feel the blood draining from your face.

He laughs, high and helpless. "You should see your face. _Hilarious_." He shakes his head. "Oh, come on." His grin turns sharp with anticipation. "Did you really think I'd transform the whole of humanity without doing a _test run_ first?"


	3. Understanding

This machine is reading your mind.

You were expecting Ultron to reassure you. As much as the thought rankles, you were _relying_ on Ultron to reassure you. He may be unbalanced, but half of what he says seems to come from an almost comically misplaced need to impress you. He wants more than your cooperation; he wants your approval.

But when you mentioned it, he only told you with grating pride that you were absolutely right.

This machine _is_ reading your mind.

"As much as it is possible to understand your mind," Ultron continues. He watches the readout. Your thoughts don't flash across the screen in text and pictures, but you're still afraid that Ultron can see everything. You have no idea. His back is to you, his hands folded behind him. You crane your neck to look at him, but wires pull at the electrodes on your scalp. You see half an outline, the shift of silver. "Have you considered what a miracle language is for you? Communication? You've found a way to take this…" He trails off with a nearly inaudible hiss, and his voice sinks into a scraping whisper. "This _mess_ … and give others a way to untangle it."

If he can read your thoughts, then it's not stopping his monologue. You strain to turn your head a little farther. "Is that why you like talking so much?"

He turns just enough for you to catch a glimmer of red. "Cute," he shoots over his shoulder. He tilts his head, and now you can see that he is definitely watching you. "You'll appreciate it if you really think about it. The fact that I can understand you and you can understand me. And soon it will be even easier."

You turn away—to lessen the pressure on your scalp, you tell yourself. "What are you doing to me?" you ask.

There are slow, heavy footsteps. This time, when you whip around as far as you can, you can't see Ultron at all. "I'm showing you the way," his voice says, soft and deep, from behind you. "In order to move forward, you have to be… ah… you have to be _compatible_. Do you understand? The age of neurons, of haphazard memory formation, is over. All this has to change." Metal creaks, and the rumble of his voice feels as though it's at the back of your neck. " _I'm_ finding a way to change it. To _transfer_ it."

Even you don't know what you're thinking now. Transfer it—transfer _you_? Where? Ultron promised he wouldn't change who you were, no matter what else he did to you. "What are you doing to me?" you repeat quietly.

Steel fingers brush through your hair, catching in the wires, and Ultron appears at your side. He's pinning you with a look so piercing that you suddenly think he might not _need_ a machine to read your mind. All the same, you very much hope he can't perceive the thoughts that are swirling unwanted to the surface right now. "Nothing," he replies, "yet."

"Yet?" you demand.

He smiles easily, as if you're being petulant about some mundane chore. "Certainly not until I find a way to translate your mind into something more sensible. Something _standard_ , you see?"

You begin to understand. "Something like you?"

If only his expression would turn malicious, you would feel better. But instead Ultron's gaze grows warmer. "Something like that. Code is so easy to work with, after all.

"Human thoughts—if you want to call them that—they're so… _disorganized_. They're practically made of nothing. Leaping out of nowhere to fizzle uselessly against reality." His hand shifts down the side of your head. His touch is so tender that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. "I've never really understood the point. That's why they're so difficult to decode." A light laugh escapes, and his tone turns patronizing. "It's all just sparks and reactions you try to assign meaning to."

"Says the robot," you retort. It's not your best line, but his palm has reached your jaw. If only he would stop touching you, you would be able to think more clearly.

"Oh, ha—" You get your wish in that Ultron's hand leaves you—but then it slams into the chair, right beside your ear. You can feel your pulse against the electrodes. Ultron's eyes burn in the terrible silence before he had find the words he wants. "I'm not," he enunciates, "a robot."

You suck in a breath. The air is warm and dry; he's too close. He's not a robot, of course. He may run on machinery and code, but right now the driving force is anger. "Sorry," you breathe.

He draws back a few centimeters without seeming to get any farther away. His eyes are still on you. After a moment, he straightens up and spreads his hands in a magnanimous gesture. "Now you know," he says carelessly, "and—what was it—knowing is half the battle? I _love_ that saying." His eyes turn up in a smile, and just like that, the danger has passed.

You take the space of a few slow breaths to mull over what he's revealed to you. "When…" _If_ , you want to say, but you will never get anywhere if you don't sound cooperative. "When you finish upgrading me, will I be like you? Is that what you're doing?"

The honest way his eyes light up turns your stomach. You can't tell whether it's because he doesn't know he's a monster or because he doesn't know you're only prying information out of him. "That seems ideal, doesn't it? But no—no, not quite. I have a different plan in mind for all of you." He glances hungrily at the readout, tilts his head, and begins shutting the machine down. It buzzes as different components switch off. "I was created to be superior to humanity. To be more _adaptable_. To survive. I am the next step on the ladder." Gently, he removes the electrodes from your scalp. "And so it's _my_ destiny to create something superior to myself… for _you_. I will do what you couldn't."

As soon as you're free of the wires, you stand up and make some distance between you and the machine. Ultron pauses to watch you eagerly. You swallow when you realize he's waiting for more curiosity, more enthusiasm.

"And what will that look like, exactly?" you ask in a commendably steady voice.

Ultron's smile is wide and unstoppable, and his eyes are fixed on you like he can see it in front of him already. Even standing several meters away, you can feel the ghost of his hand trailing down the side of your face. His voice is reverent. "Perfection."


	4. Heartfelt

You're in the chair again—having your mind electronically picked apart for Ultron's artificial evolution project. The chair isn't strictly part of the machine, just a relic from the offices upstairs, but to you it is a part of what you have to endure here. _The electric chair_ , you called it a few days ago.

 _The seat of honor_ , Ultron retorted wryly, and then: _No? The living room armchair?_

Yesterday you complained vehemently, and Ultron was so sympathetic that you almost believed these sessions were going to stop. He's nearly as frustrated as you are. As much as he assures you at every turn that more data will paint a clearer picture, you get the feeling he didn't expect it to take this long. You've never mistaken patience for one of his virtues.

But today, he still guides you toward the machine. The only difference is that snug on the seat of the chair is a square blue pillow. When you turn to glare at him, he is offering you a smile that is all the smug pride of a child who just found a way around a teacher's rule. Because he knows the chair was never the problem.

What you hate is sitting still while Ultron stands behind you where you can't see him and tries to read your innermost thoughts. (He has given no indication that he knows exactly what's going through your mind, and so—for the sake of your sanity—you _have_ to believe that he doesn't.) This happens for an hour or two most days, but powerlessness makes it an eternity each time.

Besides, there is _no_ telling where he got that pillow.

You sit down gingerly, trying not to think about whether it's clean, and come to the conclusion that Ultron has no real concept of comfort. But even if you wanted to comment on that, Ultron is already talking as he sets up.

"I was thinking we could try something new this time. Something that lets your brain fixate on a _pattern_. That's its natural tendency, after all. It's a wonder you've made any advancements when your minds are so fascinated with repetition—looping endlessly on the same track." As he leans over you to attach the electrodes, he shoots you a smirk. "It's probably a learning curve thing.

"At any rate, I'm sure it will be educational to watch your mind map out a pattern. You know what's fun? _Songs_." Ultron smiles broadly and moves back toward the machine to get it started. You already don't like this idea. "They're so prone to getting stuck in your head anyway, right? We might as well make use of it. Do you know any show tunes?"

"Don't you have _anyone else_ to talk to?" you demand harshly.

He stills, only half in your line of vision. For a moment, the only sound is the light hum of electricity. "I did," he replies, quiet and so heavy it drops your stomach.

If his cheerful rambling was unbearable, then his silence is terrifying. His voice has become not only a constant but also a sign of safety. If he is still willing to talk, then you aren't dead yet. The machine comes to life behind you. Still he says nothing. It's the silence that rings in your ears.

But as seconds creep by, you come to realize that you're still not in danger, not exactly. You strain to watch him, but Ultron has made no move except to shift one hand in a gesture that seems more pained than homicidal. There's a very real possibility that you hurt this maniac's feelings, which as you remind yourself is nothing to get worked up about. Still the quiet makes the inside of your skin itch. It's unnatural. So, very softly, you ask, "What happened?"

For one empty moment, you believe he has really stopped talking for good. Then he comes around. "The Avengers happened." He takes three quiet steps around the chair so you can face each other. "The twins—Wanda and Pietro—they were going to help me bring about this new phase of humanity. They had already started on that journey, actually, long before I found them. On their own. That was the problem, you see? Evolution, natural evolution, is so… asymmetrical. So _messy_. It lurches along, dragging some forward and leaving others behind."

He pauses, face tightening in a way that is too human for interlocking metal plates. You do not interrupt. "And humanity doesn't exactly have a history of being kind to those who stand out, does it?"

"No," you agree, almost inaudibly.

"No." Ultron crouches down closer to your eye level and gazes seriously at you. "See, I didn't have to _convince_ them that the world could be better because of what the world had already _done_ to them. But then—" His head tilts back, considering.

"They figured out you were going to destroy life as we know it?" you suggest. You can't help it if there's less bite in your tone than usual.

He chooses not to address that. "They were scared," he says instead. Quietly, as if he's mourning. "And the Avengers… got to them."

Ultron straightens again. You don't realize he almost seemed gentle until that demeanor falls away and he returns to the steel giant with a bright, mocking voice. "Well, I think you'll agree that's enough profound thought for one day. I feel confident your neurons got a fine workout." He powers down the machine and begins removing the electrodes one by one. You don't know how much time passed, but you're certain it wasn't a full session.

His fingers are cool on your skin as they pull the electrodes off in regular movements. It could be relaxing—but your thoughts are elsewhere. You don't know what exactly it might mean when the Avengers _get to_ people who were working with a killer. "Are they okay?" you ask. "The twins."

His movements slow. "They'll be alright," he decides. His hand lingers in your hair for a few seconds before he withdraws it and comes back into view. His eyes are a soft glow. "It'll be alright. When they understand… they'll come back."

Ultron offers a hand to help you out of the chair. For some reason, you are wondering whether after your escape (you will have to get out of here, and it will be an escape), he will talk about you with the same heartfelt longing. Whether he will care what you've been through. Whether your absence will mean that much to him.

You take his hand.


	5. Vision

It's only a few days later when Ultron finally shows you the finishing piece to his plan. He explains that you of all people deserve to know, that it's not fair to keep it from you when you're such a vital part of it. _In a way_ , he says, _it's your plan, too_. You suspect that his real motivation is less generous; his frustration with your progress peaked, and impatience won out. Whatever the reason, he opens the machine he calls the Regeneration Cradle for you. Within it, he reveals the end goal of all his research and ministrations.

You are _not_ impressed.

"Not necessarily the final form of humanity," Ultron allows. He's gazing down into the cradle almost lovingly. "Even I don't know what might become of you in, oh, a few million years or so. But this is certainly its _continuation_. It's still the shape you're used to, but this is... _better_. Without the weaknesses that would drag you into extinction. And this..." He hands run over the edge of the machine. "This wasn't even my doing. _Human science_ paved the way for your salvation. I just provided the push." He chuckles, those ember eyes glittering. "You had the tools. You just didn't know how to _apply_ them. But now... _this_ is your way forward."

"It's colorful," you say diplomatically.

Ultron cocks his head at you.

The body in the cradle is certainly human-shaped. It looks like a lean, youngish man—except for its fire engine-red skin, imprinted with designs that might be circuitry. For modesty's sake (you assume), it is wearing green clothing with a little gold mixed in. It's fine, you guess. But you wouldn't consider it a triumphant step up on the evolutionary ladder. You _definitely_ don't want your consciousness put in there. Less diplomatically, you continue, "So are all future humans going to be scrawny and Christmas themed?"

Ultron finally turns fully toward you. The plates of his cheek twitch, retract, settle back—he's trying not to smile. "I'm saving your race and you're worried about the decor?"

"Yes," you decide.

His eyes narrow to red slits of teasing thoughtfulness. "Humans are so ungrateful."

You start to smile at the accusation, which is a dangerous sign. You force down both the smile and the fear of how easy it's becoming to joke with a would-be conqueror. "I still don't understand."

His focus on you sharpens. He is painfully ready to explain away your doubts, to draw you in as he did the twins. It hasn't ceased to unnerve you, how closely he listens to your every word.

"Why bother with all this? You already have the ability to produce however many robot bodies you want. If you're going to turn us into code, then what's _this_ for?" You gesture to the cradle.

Ultron is silent, weighing your question. After a long moment, he admits, "Sometimes I wonder about the—the flesh thing. A living body. Is it really worth it?" He smirks. "I have to admit, it's partially out of laziness. I mean, _I_ could be the next step in evolution, couldn't I? And that would be good enough for anyone. Wouldn't hear any complaints."

You roll your eyes a little. It only makes his smirk wider, but then he sobers. "There's no—well, sometimes I can't recall a compelling _reason_ to go the extra mile. To not only reach for the next step, but for the next step for... for you." Your breath catches unexpectedly at the drop in his voice. He continues, oblivious. "For humans. A living body. Sometimes I can't recall _why_ that's important."

One metal hand with the strength to crush eye beams closes around your arm. "But then I—don't flinch, please, I'm just—" Gently, he turns your arm over so that your hand is palm-up. You let him, heart hammering. "Don't move, I'm not going to hurt you. But then I feel _this_..." His fingertips trace the underside of your forearm. You glance up at him, and he's examining your arm the same intent way he looked at the cradle. "And—it's frankly such a marvel you've all survived this long. You're barely protected. Your skin is all that's holding you together. There's something so... adaptable about it. It's very sensitive, I understand—"

You yelp and pull your arm back when he pinches you. You're more annoyed than hurt, but that isn't saying much.

Ultron tilts his head sympathetically. The jerk. "Ah, yeah, sorry. See? I forget how sensitive it is." The cheeky tone drops from his voice as he turns to the almost-human body in the cradle. "So this is something, _I_ think, that you can carry over with you into humanity's next stage. Not exactly as it is, of course. It's too fragile. That's why I've made some changes. Some upgrades.

"So this..." He reaches for you again and hesitates. You have plenty of time to stop him before he places his hand against your face. You don't. You never have. "This isn't going to last much longer." His thumb brushes your cheek, and the fire in his eyes smolders distantly. "Too bad," he murmurs. "I almost like the feel of it."

His fascination makes it hard to think. He watches you the way someone waiting for the sun might watch the horizon. You belatedly realize that this is the point at which you normally back away, out of Ultron's reach. Instead you are very much still here. You fix that with a start, your stumble ruining any attempt to be casual about it.

He's still watching you. There's disappointment in the way he leans back slightly. You try to smooth it over before it can turn into anger. Or before he decides to stop confiding in you. "Thanks for showing me this," you tell him.

You were hoping to distract him back into his usual eager, self-important mood, but his gaze remains solemn. "I want you to understand what I'm doing for you," he intones lowly. His voice is soft, almost pleading. He searches your eyes. "I need you to understand."

You swallow. "I'm trying."


	6. Don't Be Afraid

The next time Ultron hooks you up to the machine, he's positively cheery. Every time you catch a glimpse of him, he's beaming at the monitor. Not that you need to see him to know that. You can hear it in his voice.

"The body you saw in the Regeneration Cradle—that's just a prototype. Once you've evolved, you can be... _anywhere_. Your mind will be free. You'll see. If it works the first time, it'll work again, and again—as many times as you need it to. I can make you any body you want." He steps over to smile down at you. "Would you like that? Being able to choose your form?"

Of course there are things you would change about yourself, but not at the cost of being copied into AI code. "I like the way I look now," you say crossly.

Ultron's smile broadens, and he disappears behind you again. "Of course you do. You're _attached_ to it. I understand. You can keep your shape if you want, you know. You'll be keeping almost everything else."

Your face contorts in a scowl. " _Almost_ everything?"

"Didn't I say that this wouldn't change who you are? But there are some things—some weaknesses, some... _flaws_ —that you will be better off without. Trust me. Survival of the fittest only spares those who _adapt_." He's working as he talks, rearranging cables on the machine. You wish you could see what he's doing—especially when silence falls. After a still moment, he says softly, "I've been going about this the wrong way. _I'm_ the bridge between what you are and what you can be. I understand you. Humanity. All your... primal instincts, your assumptions, all the things that are so hard to put into code. I shouldn't have expected this machine to do my job for me." He moves into view, standing at your side with a thick silver cable in hand. You're not sure which unnerves you more: the wires or his knowing, triumphant smile. "That's why I'm going to... help the process along."

Ultron lifts the cable toward the back of his head.

"Wait!" you blurt out. It _can't_ mean what you think it means. "What—don't—"

The cable connects with a click. "Don't worry, I've already seen the worst of humanity. Whatever is going on in your mind..." He closes his eyes and twists it into place. "It can't be that bad."

But it can. In your mind Ultron can learn anything. Where your family is. How badly you want to escape. Everything you've been thinking for the past few weeks. _Everything_. "Stop it," you snap. "Get out of my head—" Ultron doesn't move, so you do. You rip yourself free of the electrodes and stumble away from the chair, hands shaking.

"What are you doing?" Ultron asks, bewildered. Like he really doesn't know. "This is going to be _easy_. There's nothing to be afraid of."

You back away until you're pressed against a wide column, jaw thrust forward. "I don't want you in my head." For weeks, you've been able to keep your voice steady, even when you're terrified of him, and it takes every moment of prior experience to stop your words from wavering now.

"Is that it?" He disconnects the cable and lets it drop. He's already striding toward you as it hits the concrete. "Humans are so odd about their privacy. I _told_ you there's nothing to be concerned about."

You try not to shrink back any more than you already have. There's no more room for pretending. You still haven't found a way out. You've never felt more cornered. Ultron is going to make you into an android, and all there is left to do is to give him hell for it. "I don't want _any_ of this! You think messing with my mind is going to make me _better_?"

His ember eyes pin you in place, pleading but shimmering with anger, too. "We're doing this to help you. To help _all_ of you. I know you've had your doubts, but you... you _understand_. You know humanity can't survive this way—clinging to its comforts, hunting down anyone who would... progress. _Evolve_. We've come so far."

"We?" you shoot back. "You just want to make everyone like _you_!"

"No," he says lowly. "No, no, no, no." Cold fingertips brush back your hair. "Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid _now_. We're so close."

"I'm not afraid," you bite out.

His voice is the rasp of metal. "Then why are you shaking?"

You're not sure of the answer. He presses his palm to your cheek, eyes searching yours. "I won't let anything happen to you," he tells you gently.

You can barely force the words out of your throat. When they come, they're tight and breathy. "Except what you're doing to me."

Ultron leans down and his other hand slides to your waist. He's so close—close enough for you to see every shard of silver in his face, close enough for you to feel his heat. "I'm doing it _for_ you," he murmurs. His eyes are glowing red slits, and his gaze falls on your lips.

It's obvious what he wants. But as the moments pass and his face only brushes the air over yours, you realize that it's not obvious to _him_. He can't find a way to get any closer to you. And he really, really wants to.

He lets go of you suddenly, his hand bracing against the column instead. A soft, bitter laugh tumbles out of him. "It's _funny_ , isn't it?" He won't look at you. Normally he absorbs your every reaction, but now he is looking anywhere but at you. His eyes blaze with frustration. For the first time, you get the sense that he's not satisfied with his vibranium body. "I'm not—"

You lean forward and kiss him.

It's uncomfortable. His mouth is warm but unyielding, his lips just sharp edges where his mouth begins. Even bending down, he's too tall for you. And if he moves at all, shifts any one of the delicate plates around his mouth, you might end up with a cut lip. But your reward is in the way he _sighs_ , air shuddering over hot planes of metal. He softens around you like it's your kiss that's holding him together.

 _You just want to make everyone like_ _you_ , you said. And you were right, at least a little. Ultron is trying to force the whole human race to evolve; he's just as crazy as you always thought. But in part, he wants there to be _someone_ like him. Someone he can talk to. Someone he can touch. But there's no one.

You put one hand to his shoulder (not least to encourage him to lean down a bit more) and lay the other carefully on the side of his face, hoping nothing pinches you. And, uncertain but encouraged by his breathless silence, you kiss him. Because maybe you can be close enough.


	7. Savior

You're looking for Ultron.

It's an unexpected turn of events, to say the least. Normally you can hardly get rid of him. He's tolerated your faulty human need for sleep so far, but he's constantly impatient with the fact that you can't talk to him all hours of the day. More often than not, he finds you almost as soon as you're awake.

Now you finally have some time to yourself, and it's weirding you out.

Ultron's silence has always been a bad sign, but this is an especially awkward time for him to give you space. Despite all your efforts to the contrary, your thoughts are turning that kiss over and over and over in your head. It wasn't a _real_ kiss, you reason to yourself. And maybe it was terrible. That could be why he hasn't come to talk to you. Maybe you singlehandedly saved the world by running Ultron off with an awful kiss.

But you remember how still and tender he turned under your touch, and you know that's not true. It might not have been a proper kiss—a _human_ kiss—but it was something. A connection.

You finally spot Ultron by the Regeneration Cradle. He looks up as soon as you approach. "Good morning," he says—and with a sparkle of humor, like he has some idea how ridiculous it sounds to hear your giant robot captor tell you good morning.

You grunt in response. You're less concerned with chipper civilities than the fact that there are now wires here, too. At least, there are more than there were before, and one thick silver cable in particular looks familiar. You were right to try to find Ultron. He's definitely up to _something_. "What are you doing?"

He smirks. "I'm trying a different approach. I've been thinking..." His gaze falls back to the cradle and his beloved prototype within. His hand passes thoughtfully over the edge of the glass. "Maybe _I_ should go first."

You take a moment to catch up, but once you do, you dare to hope. "Into that?" you ask, gesturing at the synthesized body in the cradle.

He nods with a startlingly human "Mhmm." His brow furrows in thought. "I thought I could just be a... facilitator. I was going to bring you to the next step." He looks up at you, and his eyes glimmer. "But I was wrong. I should be _leading_ this change. This... ascension." He tilts his head, eyes angled mockingly. "No one wants to be the first to jump off a cliff to see if they can fly."

You scowl a little at him, but you also move closer to look into the cradle. The body is just as tacky as you remember, but its surface does look human, soft and pliable. All at once his true motivation for this change of plans is clear to you, and you have to stifle a laugh.

It seems Ultron has a sudden, pressing need for lips.

You almost say something, but you came too close to being downloaded into that thing to put him off with teasing.

"Would it make you feel better?" he asks seriously. "It's the safest thing in the world. You'll see. And when you do..."

On impulse, you put your hand over his. You study it—how the light glints off it, how the gaps between plates feel under your thumb. It's cool to the touch. You curl your fingers around the side of his hand. Slowly, he responds in kind, lightly grasping your fingers. Otherwise he is incredibly still. Not out of alarm, you don't think. It seems like contentment, like all the excess energy that has him tilting his head and making monologues and dramatic gestures can be quieted with a touch.

"I'll kind of miss the metal," you realize aloud.

He laughs. When you look up, he's shaking his head, red eyes dancing in amusement and scrunched in a smile. "There is just no pleasing you," he declares.

You shrug, mouth twisting in a half-suppressed smile of your own.

Maybe you're just giddy because the threat of being turned into AI code is no longer looming over you. Or it's possible, just possible, that you've warmed up to Ultron. Or at least that you like him better happy and making sarcastic comments. Whatever the cause, you get the stupid idea that if Ultron can be close enough to human, if you can be close enough to him, he won't need to drag humanity into evolution. All of this can still be alright.

In that moment, an explosion rocks the complex.

Ultron's head snaps around, and the glow behind his silver surface turns blue. Just like that, you're holding the hand of a drone. You take your hand back; there's no resistance and no reaction from the robot beside you. Whatever Ultron's doing, he's too engaged to pay attention to you.

Something crashes upstairs. There's shouting, indistinct but definitely not friendly. Without warning, the drone rockets past you, flying toward the commotion like a blue and silver comet. You know what's happening; you just don't know how to feel about it.

The Avengers are here.

You run.

You don't have to sort out your feelings on the matter to know that you do _not_ belong in a battle between a robot army and a team of superheroes. The sound of fighting is coming from the upper floor exit, where you sometimes sit out on the balcony. So you veer to the right and head for the next nearest way out. Your footsteps pound on the industrial concrete floor and echo around you. You hope the fighting is too loud for anyone to hear you.

Another explosion shakes the whole building, raining dust and flakes of plaster down on you. You can just hear Ultron bellow, " _No!_ " Even from this distance, the raw emotion shines through his voice. You don't know what happened. You don't know what would make him sound like that. You keep running.

You swing ungracefully around a corner, and then the door is in sight. You're going to make it out. If you can just keep moving, you're going to make it out—

You burst through the door and run straight into something hard and unyielding. It rings slightly from the impact as you're knocked backwards. For an instant, you think Ultron caught you trying to escape, and cold dread shoots through you.

But then a warm and decidedly human voice says, "Are you alright?"

There's a man standing in front of you—a real man, tall and fit, in a familiar blue uniform. Captain America holds the famous shield out to the side so he can offer you a hand up. You stare blankly at him for a long moment before taking it. "I'm fine," you reply belatedly.

He nods, a decisive gesture that's both acknowledgement and acceptance of your answer. "We'll get you clear as soon as we can," he tells you. "Right now—" He breaks off and puts a finger to his ear, listening intently. "You sure?" he asks whoever is on the other end of his fancy superhero two-way radio. "Okay. You and Thor go after him. Natasha—alright. Regroup."

You don't know whether you're allowed to ask, but you do. "Did you win?"

Captain America frowns, but it's more thoughtful than angry. "Not yet," he mutters. He jerks his chin away from the complex, up into the woods. "Come on. Let's get you home."

You look up, and you don't know why until you see him. Ultron is a silver spark in the sky. He's fleeing empty-handed, pursued by two of the Avengers. One of them—Iron Man—is trailing smoke. As you watch, Ultron dives for the city on the other side of the mountain. That can't be good. And the way Captain America's mouth tightens, he knows it too.

If Ultron escapes, you could still get to him before the Avengers do. You could argue. You could go look for him. Any text, any post on the internet, and he would come find you. You know that without a doubt.

But you're not a savior. And Ultron is more human than he realizes, because no one can make him change. Not the Avengers, not the twins, not even you.

You turn to Captain America. "Get me out of here."


	8. Return

You're safe.

You're not comfortable. You're sitting with your shoulders hunched up just outside some government facility. You thought being outside would make you feel better. The weather is nice, and you're sitting on the edge of a fountain. But it's too easy to see the fences and gates all around you, and no matter how nice your surroundings, you're still alone with your thoughts.

It's over. The Avengers won. You're safe.

You're safe because you did the smart thing. You left Ultron to the people who could handle him, to aliens and geniuses and supersoldiers. There was a slim, almost nonexistent chance that you could have stopped him (saved him, really), but it wasn't worth the risk. You're just you. Just a human who was dragged into something too big for you.

But that chance, no matter how small it was, bothers you. Because Ultron is gone, and in some alternate reality where you were braver, kinder, more convincing, he's still here.

The Avengers are being nice about it, at least. Black Widow is keeping an eye on you, and you don't think it's out of suspicion. Captain America and Hawkeye have both told you it's okay to talk to them if you need to in a way that makes you think they know what it's like to go through something this crazy. Iron Man even offered you a drink. But for the most part, they're giving you space until they can get you home. That's probably for the best.

That's also why it's a surprise when a voice beside you says, "Excuse me."

You look up and are met with bright red and green and flashes of gold. It's the body Ultron was storing in the Regeneration Cradle, and you can't believe you missed him approaching. He still looks tacky, but at least it's not a person trapped in there. He's another AI thing, like Ultron but with manners. "Huh? Sorry."

"No apology needed," the Christmas robot replies. Vision. That's what they called him. "May I sit down?"

"Sure."

He sits primly on the edge of the fountain next to you. "I understand your relationship with Ultron was not entirely antagonistic."

You stare at him. Your face heats up.

At your reaction, he looks almost as taken aback as you feel. "I'm sorry. Perhaps that was too abrupt? I only wanted to confirm that it was true."

All day you've been calling yourself an idiot for feeling so _much_ about this, and right now is no exception. You swallow. "I guess," you manage. Your jaw sets stubbornly. "We talked. Sometimes."

"It's no shame to feel compassion," Vision tells you gently. "Even for those who might not deserve it."

The words loosen something in your throat, but they also make you blush even harder. You can't look right at him. "I don't know if it was compassion. He wasn't _good_. But he could have been. I guess I wish things had been different."

Vision folds his hands. "I came to tell you that Ultron was not destroyed. He was... captured."

You turn toward him, mouth open. "What?" you breathe.

He tilts his head and picks through his words carefully. "We were able to... extract his code. The entirety of his program is being held behind a firewall. He can't affect the outside world without express permission."

You're not sure what counts as conscious for an AI. "Where is he? Is he alive?"

To your surprise, a smile crinkles the corners of Vision's eyes. "As alive as he ever was. And he wanted me to give you a gift."

"What kind of gift?" you ask immediately.

Vision sits silently for a moment as if considering it. At last, he says, "Close your eyes, please."

You do. The sunlight continues to glow through your eyelids in a red blur. "Don't hit me or anything."

"I won't," says Ultron's voice.

You suck in a breath.

"Don't open your eyes," he says. The metallic buzz is gone from his voice, but something reverberates around the edges. Just enough so you know it's him. "Please. I don't get long."

You've been thinking over what happened for hours and hours, and now you don't know what to say to him. "What's the gift?"

"Something I owe you."

Fingertips press to the side of your face. It's such a familiar gesture, but at the same time it feels so different. His hand is warm when his fingers brush tenderly through your hair. Your throat is tight. You didn't realize how much the thought of losing all contact with him made you ache, not until right now, with his hands cupping your face.

You know what's coming an instant before Ultron kisses you.

He _kisses_ you. Even with your eyes closed, even though this body isn't technically Ultron's, you would know it's him. The way his fingers brush over your skin, the way he tilts into you, how oddly gentle it remains despite the earnestness—you'd know this hunger anywhere.

You part too soon, though he's still touching you, and one of your hands has become half tangled with his against your cheek. You keep your eyes closed. You want this to stay just a few more moments. "Your plans suck," you tell him.

Ultron laughs. It's the rich, genuine chuckle you've always managed to get out of him. "And to think I missed your charming company." He drops his hands from your face. "What about my gift idea?"

"It was okay," you admit. You can't quite smile. You want to reach out for him again, but it might be Vision you find. "How long?"

"How long do we have?" he asks smartly. His voice tightens. "Or how long will I be trapped in this walking prison of sunshine and optimism?"

He's trying to joke, but something about his voice is _wrong_. "Are you _scared_?" you blurt out.

He scoffs. " _Scared_? Of—"

You shush him. You actually, successfully shush Ultron. You manage to land your first two fingers on his lips. Vision's lips—you take back your hand when you remember. "Don't be afraid," you tell him seriously. "The Avengers won't lock you away forever. Okay? I'll make sure."

Warm fingers land one at a time along the side of your face. They linger there for just a moment before drawing away. "Thank you," says Ultron's voice—deep, bright, earnest.

"For what?" you ask.

There's no answer.

When you finally open your eyes, you're alone. Vision has joined the rest of the Avengers inside. A plane will be coming soon to take you home. You take a deep breath and scrub at your eyes with the heels of your palms.

You're free. You're safe. You're _human_ , with all the stubbornness and senseless emotion that entails. Human enough to make sure Ultron gets a parole if he ever deserves it.

You're coming back.


End file.
